


The Scotsman

by Queenofthebees



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hand Jobs, Public Hand Jobs, Scotland, Secret Crush, Vaginal Fingering, thirsty Sansa Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-06 16:06:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15198377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/pseuds/Queenofthebees
Summary: "I don't live with anyone," he blurted suddenly and Sansa smirked. It shouldn't amuse her just how pretty his blush is, but his adorable shyness was just irresistible. He had always been shy around women, which was endearing to her. "I mean, if you wanted to, hang out...after..."She took a sip of her drink, shooting a pointed look at his kilt. "Are you hanging out right now?"His brows creased in confusion. Sansa giggled, leaning forward to whisper in his ear."Are you being a true Scotsman?""What? No! Not here!" Jon replied, reeling back, eyes wide at the mere thought. He cast a look over his shoulder and then back to her, his voice barely above a whisper. "My tutors are here!""Hmmm, yes that would be unfortunate if they were to see," she agreed, taking another delicate sip of her drink. "Not to mention your admirer would no doubt take advantage if she knew."





	The Scotsman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chocolateghost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolateghost/gifts).



> Um...so I totally have not had this in my drafts for twenty eight days... this was totally posted on the 5th July for Brad's birthday.... You are all just late seeing it appear. God guys, where were you? :p

“Sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” Margaery exclaimed suddenly, causing Sansa to look up from her book with a puzzled frown. Margaery simply twisted her phone around to show Sansa a photo of Jon Snow wearing a full kilt outfit, sporran, socks and waistcoat included. 

“How do you have Jon on Facebook?” Sansa asked, hoping it would distract her roommate’s attention from the fact she was definitely drooling and desperately trying not to rub her thighs together at the image of Jon in a kilt. Especially since her traitorous mind whispered that perhaps he would have nothing on underneath. That would make things a lot easier to work with.

_Yeah and know what else would make it easier? You actually making a move on him!_

“Darling, Jon is good friend’s with Willas. They were in the same class.”

“Ah, right. I forgot that it will be their graduation today.”

“His girlfriend isn’t in any of the photos,” her friend commented lightly, her perfectly manicured red nails catching the light as she swiped through the pictures. “Oh. _Ooooh!_ He is single now!”

“And you are not,” Sansa replied with a pointed look. Margaery smirked at her briefly before returning her gaze to the screen.

“I never said it was for me sweetie." Sansa frowned in confusion for a split second before her friend snorted and shook her head at her, with a soft smile. "Oh come on! You're practically in heat whenever you see him! Even if its just in photographs!"

"I am not!" Sansa exclaimed, cheeks flushing at the mere thought that her desire for Jon Snow, her secret crush since she was a teenager, was perhaps not so secret after all. 

"He fancied you for ages too," Margaery added casually, as if she had merely stated that it was a nice day. It had made Sansa's protest and denial of feelings for Jon die in her throat as she blinked dumbly in response. Margaery's grin widened as she stood up promptly, clicking her fingers. "Come on. Lets go to the pub so you can check if he's a true Scotsman or not!"

"Margaery!"

"You'll thank me when you're riding him later sweetie!"

***

"You're normally way more subtle," Sansa grumbled as they entered the pub that Willas had tagged himself, Jon and a few other graduates in. Willas was bound to suspect why Margaery had come here and it made her whole face heat up to wonder what Jon would think of her, being so desperate for him that she only weakly protested to her friend dragging her here so she that she could ogle him.

"Well subtlety hasn't put Jon Snow between your legs thus far so maybe it is time for a change of tactics," her friend responded as she signaled the bartender over. Sansa didn't think she needed anymore drink. She already felt like a fool being here, having more drink would probably mean she would do something stupid.

And as if bad luck had decided to follow her this evening, it was Jon who spotted her first when he happened to glance away from the boy talking to his right and look down the bar, right as she looked at him. She darted her gaze away quickly, bowing her head so that her hair could hide her flushing face.

Margarey barely had time to nudge her shoulder before she heard him say her name.

Her traitorous eyes traveled down the length of his body and it took every ounce of self-control to stop herself licking her lips at the sight of him kilted up in the flesh. Gods the socks and pointed boots too. She wondered if her ovaries were still intact.

"Hi Jon," she mumbled, flushing as she realised she had addressed his groin rather than his face. His eyebrows were raised slightly when she made to rectify her mistake, the corners of his mouth twitching with the threat of a smile. "Congratulations," she added quickly in an attempt to steer the conversation back to normalcy. 

"Thank you," he responded smoothly.

"Want a drink to celebrate?" she asked, tiling her head towards the bar.

"Sure."

She hated how her cheeks heated so easily when he smiled at her like that, all dimples and crinkled eyes. She avoided looking at Margaery, who would surely be wearing the smuggest of smiles right now as she turned to the bar and waved the barman over.

Jon squeezed in beside her and her body shivered as his arm brushed hers. Glancing up at him, she flushed as he smiled at her and leaned forward. For one wild moment, she thought he might kiss her.

"That woman at the end of the bar won't leave me alone," he murmured in her hair. Sansa's eyes flickered to the blonde in question, her lips pressing in a thin line. "We took the same class but she doesn't get that I'm not interested."

"Need me to pretend to be your girlfriend?" she teased, looking away from him briefly to hand the money over to the barman as he slid their drinks in front of them.

"Well, at least look like I'm flirting with you and you're loving it," he responded, sliding into the seat next to her and bumping their knees together. She could smell his cologne clearly, make out the tiny scar on his cheek he got when he had been playing with Robb in the backyard as a child and got scratched with the stick Robb had used as a sword.

She remembered Margaery's words from before, how Jon had had a crush on her and it gave her the courage to hold his gaze, to let her hand reach out and run her fingertips along his knuckles. 

"I don't have to pretend for that."

He took a sharp inhale, his eyes darkening as they flitted from where she stroked his skin up to her eyes. She felt her lips part invitingly at the way his gaze pinned her in place and it took all her strength to not rut against him right there and then.

"So, um, you and Harry...?"

"Over a long time ago. And you and Ygritte...?"

"Same."

"Looks like we're two single people then."

"I don't live with anyone," he blurted suddenly and Sansa smirked. It shouldn't amuse her just how pretty his blush is, but his adorable shyness was just irresistible. He had always been shy around women, which was endearing to her. "I mean, if you wanted to, hang out...after..."

She took a sip of her drink, shooting a pointed look at his kilt. "Are you hanging out right now?"

His brows creased in confusion. Sansa giggled, leaning forward to whisper in his ear.

"Are you being a true Scotsman?"

"What? No! Not here!" Jon replied, reeling back, eyes wide at the mere thought. He cast a look over his shoulder and then back to her, his voice barely above a whisper. "My tutors are here!"

"Hmmm, yes that would be unfortunate if they were to see," she agreed, taking another delicate sip of her drink. "Not to mention your admirer would no doubt take advantage if she knew."

She let her hand drop down to his thigh, where the material of his kilt had ridden up a little. She felt the limb twitch beneath her palm as she just let it lay there for a moment. Jon shifted with another sharp intake of breath. She looked over his shoulder to meet the eyes of the woman who had been eyeing him. Her face remained impassive (she was too much of a lady to openly smirk in victory) as she let her hand slowly travel under the hem of the kilt. 

"Sansa!" Jon hissed, his hand jumping to catch her wrist. She fluttered her eyelashes innocently.

"Just making a point to your admirer that you're not interested," she stated simply, sliding her hand away. "Although, maybe leaving here together will really make it hit home." She nodded to his beer bottle. "Drink up."

"I..." he began, blinking furiously in confusion. Sansa hopped off the stool, draining the last of her glass and giving him a pointed look. He seemed to realise that she was being serious and hastily grabbed his drink. "Okay." He took a large gulp of the beverage, still swallowing the liquid as she pulled him away from the bar and across the floor to the door.

The alcohol definitely gave her courage but she thought the fact she had been drooling after Jon Snow for years had led to her being desperate enough to push him up against the wall of the alleyway beside the bar, thread her fingers in his silky curls and crash her mouth upon his.

He moaned, body sagging backwards against the brick wall in happy surrender of her assault, his own hands clutching at the back of her dress, palms flat against her to pull her closer until she can feel him between their clothes.

She thrust her hand up under his kilt, disappointed to find he had been telling the truth and had not come as a true Scotsman after all. But within seconds, she had pulled his boxers down and had her fingers wrapped around his cock.

"Fuck!" Jon gasped, wrenching his mouth away to stare at her in lustful shock. Sansa couldn't blame him. She was a the good girl stereotype through and through. Even, she thought with a smirk, the saying about all the good girls being a little naughty sometimes.

He was rutting up into her hand as she stroked him, alternating between a teasing slow pace and a desperate fast one. Always leaving him dangling at the edge of release, needing him to beg for her in some sort of payback for how her body has been desperate for him all this time.

She had thought of Jon a lot, how he would be in bed and his habits. She was glad to note that he was as eager to comply and please her in reality as he was in her filthy thoughts. His moaning pleas as she renewed her strokes with vigor was making her wet.

"When we get to yours," she muttered, pressing herself against him so he can feel her breasts against his chest. She watched his head tip back, his eyes scrunching shut with the effort of trying to get his release. "I'll jerk you off again," she promised, teeth scraping his earlobe. "And you can cum on my tits."

"Fuck!" Jon cried again followed by a long grunt before she felt his cock twitch and then his seed flood her hand.

"Mmmm," she commented, slowly swiping her tongue across her hand to lick up his release. Jon groaned between his pants, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he watched her.

She stepped back and made towards the street, throwing him a raised brow over her shoulder. "Shall we continue this at your place then?"

"Hang on," he responded. She snorted as he desperately tugged his boxers off, hopping on one foot as he tried to get them over his shoes. She tilted her head in amusement as he tossed them in the large dumpster and practically skipped towards her.

"Well, that will make things easier," she sniggered as he fell in step next to her.

"Aye," he responded. He curled a hand around her waist as she signalled a taxi over, his lips at her ear. "Maybe I'll wear this more often if it means your hands on me."

She smirked, letting him have his few seconds of pride at making her shiver before she nudged her face against his neck, her own lips pressing slowly against his pulse point.

"If you liked my hands," she whispered, delighting in how his throat bobbed as her breath hit his skin. "Wait until I get under there to have my mouth on you."

She stepped out of his embrace as the taxi pulled up, giggling at the whine that escaped him at her words. She slid across the back seat, giving the driver a polite greeting as Jon slumped into his seat and shut the door. Once he had given his address and the engine was running, he slid up closer to her.

"I never took you for a tease Sansa Stark," he mumbled, nosing her hair and making her eyes flutter shut. "I hope you know I'm going to make sure you make good on your promise."

She whimpered as his hand slid up her thigh even as his body retreated. His fingers brushed against her knickers, a sharp inhale telling her that he had felt the dampness there. He licked his lips, leaning his head close to hers again.

"Are you imagining sucking my cock?" he whispered, pressing his hand to the front of her underwear. "Is that getting you wet baby?"

She nodded, her hips sliding up against his hand in an attempt to get him to move them. But he doesn't do anything of the sort. In fact, to her surprise and annoyance, he fully removed his hand from beneath her dress and slid back into his original seat. 

"Just up here mate, cheers!" he commented to the driver before Sansa had a chance to scold him on leaving her desperate and wanting. She growled, pressing herself right up to him so her breasts meshed against his arm.

"I'm going to give you the best blow job of your life," she muttered against his ear. "But only if you stop teasing _me_ and give me what  _I_ want."

As the cab pulled up, she couldn't get out fast enough, running straight into Jon's arms on the other side for a messy kiss.  Her lips kept trailing a path down his neck, tongue licking at his skin, teeth at his shoulder as he tried to dig his keys out of his sporran while holding her against him with the other hand. She hitched her leg around his waist, smirking at the way he shuddered and momentarily forgot his task to rut against her.

"God Sansa if you don't stop I'll end up fucking you right here," he moaned as he finally managed to get his keys. She hummed, wrapping her arms around him and grinding against his back.

He tugged her inside, pressing her against the door as soon as he had her inside. His hand slid up her dress once more, this time there was no teasing as his fingers dipped underneath the fabric to trace her sex.

"You're so wet sweetheart," he groaned against her shoulder. She mewled in response, nails digging into his back as she rutted up against him. He hummed in response, knowing what she was asking for. 

His index finger slipped inside her easily. She made an approving noise in the back of her throat, driving her hips down on the digit. "More!"

"Oh you'll get more," he growled, pushing another finger inside of her.

He pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing in fast, tight circles that caused her legs to quiver around his waist, her back to arch and her hips to grind against his pumping fingers as she frantically climbed towards her release. Jon groaned in approval as he felt her tighten around his fingers, her hands clutching his shoulders with desperate need as she moaned his name against his jacket.

Smug with the knowledge of what Sansa Stark sounded like when she came, how his name sounded against his skin, he stepped back and set her legs back down to the ground. He held out a hand, wanting to help her towards the bedroom where he intended to keep the night going. But then, Sansa's eyes opened and the predatory smirk was the only warning he had before she grabbed his waist and turned them around, his own back slamming against the door and causing the little glass panes to rattle. 

"A deal is a deal," she grinned, dropping to her knees.


End file.
